


Forgetting to Tap-Out

by storywriter8



Series: Wizards and Werewolves and Wind Oh My! [10]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magic, Blood and Violence, Eliot Centric, Episode Related, Episode Tag, Episode: s02e02 The Tap-Out Job, Hurt Eliot Spencer, Scene Rewrite, Shifter Eliot, Werewolf Eliot Spencer, Wind Elemental Parker, episode rewrite, werewolf eliot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 08:40:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18340121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storywriter8/pseuds/storywriter8
Summary: When the team sets their sights on a shifter gym, Eliot will have to face both the truth about what he really is and his demons.





	Forgetting to Tap-Out

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of forgot I had this written for like two months.

“A shifter gym?” Eliot repeated, glaring at Nate.

“The kid’s mom was a shifter, he didn't inherit it but since they knew about magic, Rucker let them fight. Which means we need a shifter for the plan to work.” the psychic said, stopping his pacing to look straight at Eliot.

“It's a little late to be bringing someone new onto the team.” Hardison grumbled, still laying flat on his back where Parker had grappled him.

“Can you do it?” Nate asked, ignoring Hardison and keeping his eyes locked onto Eliot.

The hitter let out a slow breath and let himself shift. Clear blue eyes clouded over to dark red as his black ears lifted out of his hair, the fur on them shimmering with a strange iridescence.. “What do you think?” Eliot growled around his fangs. Silently cursing the psychic for outing him like this, the wolf shifter stormed out, slamming the hotel door behind him and leaning heavily against it.

The muted shouts of his teammate started as soon as the door closed and Eliot quickly shoved himself away, having no desire to hear what they must think of him. Forcing his shift away and tugging his hood up, the hitter went to find something to punch.

-

Eliot fought to keep his kicked puppy dog look in place as he was forced to listen to Rucker’s blatherings.

“Most of these guys, they’re obediently little pups, lookin’ up at me like I’m the moon that if they howl at enough all their dreams will come true. Dreams of Vegas, and the UFC, energy-drink contracts. Those are the dreams I sell them, they listen to me because I can take those dreams away. Now, you, you're different. You fight like something's trying to get out of you.”

The hitter almost smiled at that, the irony of just how true Rucker’s words were. If the crooked gym owner had any idea what was lurking just beneath Eliot’s skin he would be running for the hills in a heartbeat.

But, then again, what was keeping the rest of his team from doing the exact same thing? None of them, not even Nate, knew the whole story, knew exactly what kind of monster Eliot was.

“You were made, weren't you.” Rucker murmured, bending slightly forward and eyeing Eliot like he was a fascinating zoo animal. “I can always tell, the ones who fight the hardest are always made.”

-

Letting his eyes fall shut for a moment, Eliot repressed the urge to run. The shouts of the crowd bouncing around his head hurt a hell of a lot more than the few hits that Tank had managed to land before timeout was called. Honestly, he would rather take the beating, take the fall, then go along with the new new plan. 

“Try and make it look good.” Nate murmured, raising the clean water bottle they had switch out for after the psychic saw the future drugging attempt.

Try?

Eliot didn't have to try. He knew exactly what out of control looked like. What it felt like to have the power rushing through you and no way to stop. The trick was to keep himself from going too far.

Letting out a roar that had once sent men begging for their lives, Eliot let himself fall into a half shift as he ended his pretend drug induced stupor. Claws and fangs coming in to tear at the man above him as his black ears lay flat. The glossy black fur that had spread down his arms and across his chest was soon splattered with blood while his thick tail lash angrily from where it had ripped a hole in the back of his shorts. The blood was rising in Eliot’s eyes by the time he heard someone screaming at him to stop. Stop. Stop!

Forcing himself back, the shifter fell to the ground as he fought his own instincts that were screaming for him to kill, finish the job, let the blood fill his mouth. He would be well rewarded when he returned to his master.

A rush of cold air slammed into him, shocking him out of his shift. Parker materialized, kneeling next to him and flung her arms around his neck.

“Sometimes I forget how to change back.” she murmured into his ear as the only explanation.

Eliot let out a shaky laugh and let the wind spite pull him up to be checked over by the ring doctor they had pulled in on their scheme.

With a mostly clean bill of health for their shifter and the satisfaction of seeing Rucker run right into their trap, the team packed up the van to head for home.

Eliot groaned as Hardison and Parker eased his bruised body into the back of the van, too tired to protest. With his head resting on Parker’s shoulder and his legs over Hardison’s lap the hitter found himself falling quickly asleep.

“What did Rucker mean by made?” Parker asked, a little too loudly in Eliot's ear as the van started moving.

Eliot let out a dry chuckle. “Under certain circumstances humans can be turned into a shifter by the bite of another shifter. It's a horrifically grueling process that only the strongest manage to survive and is highly illegal under the laws of magic.” He mumbled, feeling very much like a dictionary to the curious wind sprite.

Parker was silent for a while, eyes locked with Hardison who was giving her small shakes of his head. “Were you made?” Parker asked, ignoring the hacker’s warning.

Letting out a long sigh, Eliot nestled himself more comfortably between his teammates. “Not now Parker, I’m tired.”

If the shifter saw the look of determination in Parker’s eyes or the sadness gathered in the corners of Hardison’s mouth, or felt them move closer, hold tighter, he said nothing and drifted off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Chatting with the Void on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/KnockoutRambles)  
> 


End file.
